Rains and Me

Written 3 months ago in Gainesville, Florida–

Until today, I never realized how fundamental the rainy season is to the Indian.

Sure, there are songs, movies, poetry solely devoted to the rains. Come July and there are ‘Malhar ….’ or ‘…. Malhar’ events happening in every nook and corner of every city, or rather, every space with a seating capacity of 15 or more. Hindustani classical music has not one, but an entire branch of raagas meant only for the rains. So rain if anything, is a topic explored ad nauseum via every form of expression known to man.

So why am I writing this article? Because today I found out how integral the rainy season is to my existence. I have hated, mocked, despaired at rains all my life and yet, yesterday, I found myself sitting in my apartment, having just returned from a walk in the rain, in front of my PC listening to a marathon of rain music (ranging from Colonial Cousins’ Indian Rain to Pt Ravi Shankar’s Concerto), longing for teatime and incredibly, reviewing a technical paper on rivulet formation on airfoils. It felt cosy (the music I mean, definitely not the paper.) The cliché about the rain drumming  a pattern on the windowsill  rang true. 

For the first time ever, I LIKED the rain!

Written today in Mumbai – 

All the old grouses against the rain return in with full fervor. The roads are ditches, the clothes don’t dry, the alley smells…………..and reaching your lab soaking wet is not fun by any stretch of imagination.

Umbrella shopping is fun though.

The lightening coruscates the sky every night. It would be nice to get at least one decent photograph of it.

Hmm…… some things are best enjoyed indoors  :)

Normal Shock

If only
I could hold a sieve
in the stream of time
to gather together
a heap of moments
of lighthearted repartees,
of endless teasing
of conversations without reserve
of feeling secure and warm;
all picked out from uneventful days,
and let the rest flow away.

Guilt

I wish you would come to me
Not just when you're in pain
That way I wouldn't have to look forward
To your getting hurt again

Reminisces

A conversation with a friend in class today led me to write this post.

It started with a remark on the professor's style of writing.(He pressed the chalk so hard that I felt sorry for the poor board.)This got us to wade into a stream of reminisces about the different teachers we'd had since school, the way they wrote, the way they intoned certain words......(This friend actually adopts the same tone as his teacher when he's trying to remember a formula and vouches for the method.)

Later as I reflected on the conversation I was struck by how vividly we remember a few chosen incidents or (for lack of a better word)facts and forget the rest. I don't count "memorable days" which I'll return to, but later. These are ostensibly unremarkable days. I can't even give an example here, because they truly have nothing worth remembering. Or do they? I mean, the fact that we remember them proves that there is something to them, after all.

Other things (like remembering the way some teacher wrote on the board or the way they signed in your notebook)leave me equally baffled. Is it about how long you are exposed to a phenomenon? Just what is it about things that determines whether we remember them or not?

Coming to the "memorable days" in our life - there too, we really don't remember each and every single minute of the day. Only the important bits.Maybe like how the toothpaste fell off the brush in the morning?!

Then again, there are other things. Listening to a new song the other day, I tried to sing along and play it till I knew all the lyrics by heart. Five repetitions later, my patience ran out. But I know of several songs, advertisement jingles (intentional memory adhesiveness) and such like that I've memorized (mostly sub-consciously)having only listened to them a couple of times.

It would be wonderful if we could come up with a solution to this mystery. Imagine- no student would forget anything (s)he read before an exam. Court witnesses would have perfect testimony.Phone numbers, car license plates, events witnessed,you name it!

Teleporting Woes

Hey, have u reached?

Me, I’m still at home! I’m just KNEW something was gonna go wrong! And now I’ll be late!

I mean, when I got that new teleporter, I thought wow! This is cool! No more disorientation problems, no battery issues……..………….. and ALWAYS REACH IN TIME!!
And now this. I called the service center and the guy has the audacity to tell me that the warranty lasts only for the first 50 teleportations! Now it’ll take me a whole 10 nanoseconds longer. Even the arrival pads will be jammed at this hour!
I HATE the thought of spending SECONDS together without a body. And I hurt my arm when I fell off yesterday. Some kid landed a nanosecond too soon and knocked me over.

Apparently the new model T11235 gives an auto stability feature so you’re always standing straight when you land. I’m sure there are morons who’ll buy it too! I mean, why can’t you learn to land properly on your own? Guess it’s good for kids and senior citizens though. They should put some cushions instead, like planes had parachutes.

I’ll leave now. Grab a seat for me.
C ya!!

In wait

I lie, frozen glacial
Impassive, dreary and still
I lie choked and stifled
Stationary against my will


I seem a mere ghost
To the wandering casual eye
Unable to discern the tiny trickle
That despite all, refuses to rigidify

The sun sends its compliments
But it'll take more than a few rays
To strike a chord
With my crystal carapace

Someday the water will gush forth
Unfettered, free at last
To surge, to breathe life
Into the sands I flow past.

The Minimum Energy Level

It seems to me that there are two phases in which we all exist.

One – where everything is proper, where one moves about with check valves highly active in the brain. One stifles yawns, sits upright on chairs, politely declines third helpings (even if it’s a favorite dish) and resigns to second (for fear of insulting the cook).

And the other – where one sits with one leg thrown around the backrest of the chair (my pose as I type this), gluts on chocolate cake, whistles out of tune, jumps on newly made beds; etiquette be damned.

Most of us would say the second happens when one is all alone. Or maybe when one is with family. And a few close friends to whom one has nothing to prove. Or when one is working or too engrossed in something to care.

So why care the rest of the time? It seems to me that for every act of “good” behavior one tries to accumulate credit in the onlookers’ mind. Just so that one is taken seriously by them later. Then there are others. Those who appear to do anything they want to do. Why some of them still retain their claim to good opinion while others are alternately ridiculed and despised remains a complete mystery.

And there are still others. Those that are so saturated with genuine sophistication that it seems inconceivable that they could be otherwise. Wonder if they’re missing out on things or the other way round.